


Murky waters

by Onki



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-12-26 01:19:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12048342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onki/pseuds/Onki
Summary: John had been sent on a mission to capture a mermaid for his Count Tarasov. But things don't go as smoothly as he hoped for.





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Heard this lagoon is crawling with mermaids”_ , one of the sailors grumbled in Spanish, gripping his harpoon harder. The moon shone on his scared face, casting harsh shadows.

” _Calm down, brother, they nothing but fish. We haven’t seen them even!”_ boatswain snapped back, poking the fire with the end of his blackened cutlass. The iguanas that were caught earlier were being spit roasted, smoking gently.

 _“Heard they are unmeasurably beautiful, lurin’ you into the water, then – snap! There will be nothin’ but ye bones be left_ ”, older man with a missing eye scared the younger ones, waving the torch around to point at each one of them.

John ignored the men and went to the boats that were tied by the shore. Harpoons, nets, knives: everything was there. Only the mermaids themselves hadn’t been seen.

Viggo had sent him after creatures that lived only by rumors. ‘A reliable source has told me they’ve seen one of water maidens by Nassau. You’ll capture it and bring it to me, alone. You’ll have enough coins to get a crew and a ship. Now, go’, John had only nodded then and headed out.

He was set on getting to the Spanish colonies, but now – he didn’t know. They’ve sailed in and around the gulf in search of the creatures, but never even had a whiff of them.

“ _We go out now_ ”, John declared, reloading all of his flintlocks.

“ _But we only cooked the lizards!”_ they tried to protest, but one solemn look from John mellowed them. They’ve all seen him in action: fighting pirates boarding their ship like a devil. They hadn’t gotten their pistols out, before John was standing in the midst of all corpses, alone.

John had been talking to the drunkards and sailors in the dingy taverns. Half of them couldn’t finish their sentences, before passing out head-first onto the table. Most mentioned peak of mermaid sightings during the full moon night.

 _“Be alert and sing”,_ John climbed into one of the boats. He was to sit in the darkness, and await with several men near the rocks. While others lured the sirens in with lit torches and noise more in the open waters.

“ _Fortis fortuna adiuvio”,_ all briefly prayed, kissing their crosses. All hoped tonight was the night that they finally catch the mermaid.

***

They’ve waited for hours, but there was no sign of mermaids. The ocean was calm, waves pushing them away from the shoreline. Everyone’s edge worn off with time, some nodding off, heads bobbing to stay awake.

Then John saw it – a flicker of tail too graceful and quiet to be a fish.

“ _They’re here”,_ John nudged the closest man, nodding towards the bait boats, “ _Signal the ground party.”_

The façade of the quietness dissipated immediately with men’s shouts and yells, when the mermaids attacked. John couldn’t do anything but to row his boat back and watch people getting slaughtered and eaten.

“ _Lift the nets!”_ he yelled, they had to be quick to catch at least one. When they almost reached the coast, their rowboat got flipped over, submerging them into the water.

John saw two long figures latching onto the old man, spilling blood everywhere. He reached for his dagger and swam forward. When he felt something touch his leg, he twisted around and pierced the creature with his whole might. The sharp look on its face faded, bringing out a pained innocent face. But John didn’t think twice, stabbing it again. He freed himself from its hands, finally crawling out to the surface. The feeling of sand under his feet were more welcome feeling.

Only two men came with him from his boat.

“ _Señor Wick!”_ the young sailor ran towards him, “ _All escaped! They cut through nets!_ ”

John dismissed him. He was getting angry: not only he had lost most of his men, all mermaids have escaped. When he walked towards one of the wrecked boats that washed up ashore, he heard splashes.

Wick rushed towards the sound source, unsheathing rapiers from its scabbards.

“ _Merda”,_ he heard Italian curses and even louder splats of water hitting the rocks.

Curious, John jumped down the slope, finally seeing the creature.

Pale light from the moon reflected on its pale scales. When she turned around – it was a he. And he had a pissed off face that smoothed out, as soon as he saw John.

“Hello”, he purred out, cautiously looking at his drawn swords.

Their silent moment ended quickly, when several of the men yelled and ran with torches in their hands, “ _Wick has caught one!”_

The merman seemed to snap, fruitlessly trying to scramble out of the trapped circle of rocks and wood. John moved on instinct, jabbing the end of his rapier into the wriggling tail. The man below him bellowed in pain, the little pool of water he was in completely getting painted with his blood.

“ _Knock him out!”_ the one eyes man ordered, helping to throw the net over the fighting body. A single blow in his head by the blunt end of the gun and the creature was out cold.

“ _What a catch”_ , the younger man yelped excitedly, breaking others from the silence of a shock, starting an uproar of celebration.

John cast one last glance, before the body was roughly dumped into a glass container.

***

Later, at the dawn, when everyone was snoring peacefully, John walked up to the tank. The water was still tinted red from earlier. Taking a pity, John took its tail into his hands. It was warm and scaly, fins at his hips and back to tail looking as soft as a silk. He wrapped a cloth around the wounded area, stopping the blood flow.

It felt weird to finally touch something that has been only a legend this morning. John idly touched its smooth forearm, which was just like of any human’s, only in-between fingers were connected with skin. When John reached up to find its gills, he saw pale green eyes calmly looking back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not ded

John smoothly took away his hands, while he kept looking at those eyes. Ocean green irises looked away after a while, focusing on John’s rapiers instead.

“I won’t hurt you”, John clarified, remembering from earlier that the creature spoke in English. He was surprised when the merman mockingly snorted out.

“You think I’m a scared child? Don’t use that tone with me”, he pushed out his tail out of the pink-tinted water, leaning with his forearm on the edge, “What do you want? Gold? Diamonds?”

When John just looked without denying nor accepting his bribes, he continued, “Wouldn’t you want a mer _maid_ , rather than me? You humans all think we are beautiful water nymphs, it’s an arrangement that could be made.”

It was baffling how the caught man acted like he owned everything in the world, making demands as soon as he was awake. Viggo didn’t specify the gender of the creatures, so John didn’t want to take chances and lose the only one they’ve managed to catch. It has been too long without any real progress.

“No”, John simply stated after a short thought.

“No?” a raise of a brow and a flick of his tail, “I’m offering you immense amount of gold, untold numbers you can’t even imagine. You could be the king of the world. So what you let go of me? It won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Not my place to decide”, the sky got brighter by minutes, edges of the darkness slipping away. It was almost time to leave.

“So what? You can tell your… Whomever orders you around that you didn’t find me, nor saw whatever happened here. Simple”, the merman was gesturing around, face growing less arrogant and more concerned.

“All these men saw, what ‘bout em?”

“That could easily be dealt with”, he easily smiled, curls of his hair falling down onto his eyes.

‘Dealt with’, only meant one thing for John and he didn’t want unnecessary deaths around him, there was enough to last him for five lifetimes.

“The talk is over”, he said, before turning away.

“Wait, at least change the water!” the man yelled to his retreating back, slightly splashing his clothes.

John paused for a bit and called the young jumpy sailor from earlier, “ _Change the water and don’t talk to him.”_

***

The courier he sent at dawn came back with the ship when the sun has started to rise, painting the sky with rosy tones. The crew caught another few dozens of iguanas and loaded the boats with more fresh water they’ve found earlier in the depths of the woods. The men kept looking at the tank, where the merman barely fit in. It was alright, they had bigger containment in the captain’s cabins.

The lagoon water was clear, only few bodies washing up on the beach. Most were probably eaten by the sharks that lurked by, called by the smell of blood.

After locking up the tank with a lid like a sarcophagus, they lifted it with ease: there was enough manpower for that. However, as a crew of a frigate – their numbers were depleted, severely so. John noted to recruit more at the nearest port.

Awed men quickly set into work, once John set his feet onboard of the ship. He became the de facto captain of sorts, the previous one eagerly giving up, even when John refused to do so. But he had to admit to himself it made his job much easier, controlling the men directly.

Wick walked to his quarters and saw the tank still locked on top, and the man inside of it banging the glass, face red.

Crewmen probably dumped it at his room and rid themselves of the hassle of touching the ‘cursed’, as they said. Probably would’ve had another opinion had it been a woman.

John rushed and popped open the tank, to free the suffocating, spluttering one out.

“Could’ve picked up the dead ones if you wanted me to die here”, he wheezed out breathlessly, greedily breathing in air.

“You got gills”, John pointed out, cocking his head at them.

“There’s air in water as well. Of course you wouldn’t know”, he looked around the cabin, taking in the scant decor and furnishing, “Tasteless. Absolutely hideous. Should’ve ended it when I had the chance.”

 “You’re not a guest here”, shouts and yells from above signaled for everyone that the sails were up and ready to go, “I must go.”

“What am I supposed to do here then? And what is your name? _John_ , isn’t it?” he probably heard others calling him.

“Would be fair if you told me yours as well”, the merman seemed to think about it, but it seemed like he thought it wouldn’t do any more harm.

“Santino.”

“Santino”, John parroted, trying it out loud.

“Careful, John, once you name the pet, it’ll get harder to rid yourself from me.”

Wick made his way out of the cabin. Several gulls circled the masts, squawking over each other. The wind was high and the sky was clear: a perfect weather for sailing.

“Set the course for Kingston”, maybe the crew needed a well-deserved drinking, maybe not. John wasn’t a sailor and didn’t want to prolong his journey more than necessary.

***

Port Royal greeted them with its dirty lagoon and drunk shouts of the visitors and locals. Several pirates were sprawled across the pier, face delirious from the rum. Dogs ran around, sniffing around hoping for the rare scraps. Women dressed in scanty dresses tried to lure the sailors with the sway of their dances.

John called the bosun and directed him to hire new men and keep quiet about their catch. He didn’t want a scene at the ship when he returned to it, after he’s done with his chores.

***

The bureau he was in was empty, save for the thin man, who was writing down in a logbook. The scratch of the feather and occasional pigeon coos the only sound in the room.

“Hello, Mr. Wick. should I inform the Mentor that you have arrived?”, ever politely greeted the head of the bureau.

“That’ll be good, Charon”, John wandered to the back, pushing the hidden door to the tunnels.

He made his way towards the lowest chamber, dankness of the walls creeping up on him. At least the heat was non-existent here. When he reached the final room, he saw an old man, who was inspecting a gold coin through his monocle.

“Hello, Winston”, John greeted, silently closing the door behind him, putting the booby traps back where it was.

“Why, John, good to see you. You disappeared for a while, thought you were dead”, he smiled with his eyes, putting down the coin, “What do you want? A drink? Definitely a wash. Also a change of weapons, new flintlock blueprints came by last week, you should take a look at it as well. And by god, Johnathan, you smell worse than a rotting beached whale.”

“Thank you. Viggo sent me out on what seemed to be an impossible mission, but I managed to complete it. Don't worry about the smell, I'll have to check into the inn.”

“You always make it, John. Have you seen Marcus? He should be loitering around here. The old chap still can’t accept that he’s a mentor now.”

“Russians still hadn’t let him go”, it was true. They promised a freedom, only to prolong the leash they kept on him. Marcus wanted to fully devote himself to the Brotherhood, but his affiliations were always in the way.

“Well, he just got a contract that he won’t finish off from their ranks, and overall, he does what he wants. That’s as much freedom as we can get, John.”

“I know”, they had to pledge alliance to someone or other, otherwise it was hard to get through countries as closed as Russia.

“Well, enough talk. There are several contracts open in the sea, you can take ‘em – if you want it”, the man already was pouring drinks, glass clinking against the bottle.

After the drinks, John headed outside to the blacksmith’s house. Leaving the rapiers, he decided to check the new blueprints Winston had told him about. All throughout the journey he felt watched: a talent he honed on since his adolescence years.

Wick went on and around the narrow seedy streets of the city, sidestepping the dogs that lay sprawled in the shadows. He evaded the pursuer successfully, once he hid in the bushes only to see a young lean man running out of the corner and cursing, looking around. He gave up after a while and seemed to retreat back to the shadows.

Who was it? Why? Brief thoughts stuck at the back of his head to deal with some other day: it wasn't part of the mission.

The tavern he was in now was one of brotherhood’s, where people like him could gather and relax. Killing someone was deeply frowned upon, usually the attacker ending up dead in the next few days. The head Master of the Kingston bureau really didn’t want his rules being walked over it seemed. But it really was nice to have a semblance of peace in the world they lived in, where they don’t have to be always alert, even during the night time. Especially during the night time.

A thin man slumped into the chair beside his, banging his bottle against the rattling table.

“John, you old dog, alive and breathing”, the man cynically smiled. The chair he was on whining in protest, wagging from one side to other.

“Alive. Heard you retired.”

“Bah, when there’s a retirement for dogs like us? Teach novices and try not to get hooked with Russians – are my only concerns for now”, he kept on rambling about the ‘damn novices can’t tell difference between a liver and a heart, stabbing wherever!’. John listened on, until darkness fell and midges circled the lit lanterns.

They parted ways with silent goodbyes, each going their way. John came back to his cabin, only to see the helmsman of the ship near the basin, looking awestruck, his face in hands of the merman. Santino looked into Wick’s eyes, whispering sweet nothings into the sailor’s ears, making him slump into merman more.

John walked around, so he stood in front of the man, who in turn scrambled away when he saw the captain.

“I, uh- boatswain told me to look after him. And I-“, he went on, until Wick held his hand up, pointing towards the door. He gladly ran away, hastily grabbing his hat, slamming the door behind himself.

“And there you go ruining my entertainment of the day, John. How rude”, Santino reached over to the bowl, where various fruits were neatly stacked on top of each other, some already cut. He took one, biting into it, releasing the juices that were trapped inside, “Tastes marvelous. Never get green ones.”

“Why was he here?” the fruits weren't the cheap ones. Santino must've made him buy them for himself.

“You sound like a jealous wife”, when John’s face only grew more passive, he added, “Your boatswain called me the devil when I tried what I did right now with the _giovanotto_. He sent me the charming one instead, which I am immensely glad – far easier on eyes than the old buffer.”

“You got that siren voice?” John suddenly got curious about his species. Could it be that he got influenced as well?

“Not really. Well, mostly women have better voices”, Santino seemed to be glad to talk in general, "But not to the point of hypnotizing, like you people like to imagine about.".

“I see you got a better prison cell for me here”, the merman looked at the bigger tank at his back. It was getting suspicious why he’d be so flippant about all this, “I’m getting tired of splashing on myself water every now and then.”

“How’s your tail”, John instead asked, taking off his overcoat and holsters.

“Hurts, still. I suppose you’re not apologizing for that. Are you going to pick me up?” Santino looked up at the standing man above him with rolled up sleeves.

When he lifted the merman, he was far more heavy than he looked like. His body was warmer as well, scaly part of the body covered with light slickness, making his hands slip a bit. Santino wrapped his arms around John’s neck, face really close to his. Right before he put him down into the new container, Santino planted a kiss on his cheek.

John hadn’t comprehended what had happened. Only after getting splashed by Santino, he snapped out of his stupor.

“Don’t do that again”, John only rumbled, taking off the soaked shirt off.

“Take it as an appreciation for your efforts”, Santino peeped out of his water, combing back the hair with his finger, “Russian tattoos. You taking me there?”

John only grunted in reply, changing his clothes and slumping into the bed. It certainly will be an interesting journey he had ahead of himself. John doubted Santino could silently crawl up towards him and stab him while he’s sleeping, so he calmly fell into dreamless slumber, still feeling the ghostly peck against his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> giovanotto = young man  
> yea surpprisingly im not ded  
> i'll probably update once week cos i got shiton stuff to do 
> 
> There isn't m uch interaction between our two cos i felt like i needed to build the world a little bit  
> mostly it's like assassin's creed black flag one (yea my knowledge pr much all comes form tht cos i played it 6 times lmfao) and cos y'kno, john is an assasisn.  
> also mermaids are more like from POTC(really liked the tails h)


	3. Chapter 3

John woke up startled, feeling a fleshy coldness landing on his face. He caught the next one that flew at him, squashing it in the process – juices flew down his hand, stickiness flowing down with seeds and all, spreading aroma of a rotten corpse. He grimaced at the smell, waking up.

“Oh, good, you’re awake”, not an ounce of remorse in his tone, “I’m hungry. Feed me.”

“Don’t you have that bowl of fruits?” it was still a dawn outside the wide windows. He grimaced at his hand, wiping it in the nearby rag, spreading a pale orange hue over it.

“Don’t you see it’s already rotten?” he made it more clear by reaching over to the bowl that was on a nearby table, picking most off one at the top and throwing it at the floor.

“No, stop that”, John rose from his bed, fastening his belt, “Okay, fine I’ll go get it. Give me that bowl. And don’t throw it.”

That seemed to settle Santino, who passed the bowl obediently, huffing out with satisfaction.

“Thought you ate human meat”, John managed out, blur of sleep finally slinking away from his eyes.

“No. Not really. Believe me or not that was my first time going for the hunt. And it wasn’t planned. But you seemed to be prepared”, John noticed the tail flicking again. It seemed to do it whenever Santino was interested in talking.

“I was”, there were only black shirts left in the chest. He realized he still hadn’t bathed yet.

“Awfully so, you managed to lost half of your men”, Santino looked at the only painting in the room of a half-naked woman, “This ship isn’t yours.”

“It is now”, John, too looked at the painting, as if noticing for the first time. It really was ugly, probably painter tried to earn a quick coin at the port, painting whatever came into their mind.

“So, you’re a pirate then. Doesn’t fit you so then. But you have someone ordering around, hired pirate for Russians. How fun”, a sardonic smile made way on Santino’s face, smile lines curling around.

John didn’t want to give anything out about himself, so he neither denied nor confirmed it, letting it hang between them.

“But, really, you can’t ignore me. You can go away, of course, but what are the odds of the helmsman returning and freeing me. He seemed to like me enough for such acts of heroisms”, John had to remind himself to stay calm. Planting ideas of doubt for his crew – clever idea, but John was already used to such machinations in his line of work. All the act, hesitation cost dearly for people like him, he doesn’t make such mistakes.

Without further talks, John grabbed his flintlocks and headed out. A lock on the door would be enough of a sign for people to stay away.

***

“You took your time with that basket of fish”, Santino huffed out with annoyance, when John came back. His green eyes flashed a glare.

John did check into the inn, took the weapons he left at the Master’s earlier and bought new ammunition. By the time he was done, the sun was already up and burning, people crawling out of their houses to start another day.

The fish he grabbed along his way seemed to be fresh enough, glassy eyes still wet, looking back at him.

Santino poked around, seemed to be picky enough with his food.

“Aren’t you going to cut them up for me?” the merman almost seemed to be offended he was offered such meal.

“No.”

“At least give me a knife then. I’m not a barbarian to eat it with scales and guts”, he picked up one of them by the tail, shaking it, “I’m sure you won’t get killed by me if you give me one. Or I could throw it, an interesting thought. Would I hit you, or miss you?”

When John scowled, the Italian continued, “Or you could cut up the fish. John, you can’t hurt me, and you need me in one piece for your owners. I could easily jump out and dry out and die, do you want that?”

Guess he didn’t have much options. Sighing, he picked up the slippery fish, gutting it while looking into Santino’s eyes.

“Here”, he found a plate and roughly cut up the fillet, shaking off the hand from scales that stuck.

“When are we going to sail out? We’ve been docked for a day and a half already”, he picked out the bones with a bored expression.

“Ship needs more cannons. Why does it matter to you?” a flicker of worry crossed Santino’s face, which made John more suspicious. What has this man planned?

“Just curious is all.”

A knock on the door. The sun-burned face of the boatswain sweating from heat stood there panting, when John opened the door. The heat from outside seeped into the cabin, momentarily making him feel it.

“ _We got men. Cannons’ almos’ ready. Be ready in the ev’ning, ready when ye are, cap’tn”_ , a strong smell of alcohol hit Wick’s face.

John dismissed the man, planning the voyage ahead. He had to change the crew after he crossed the ocean. They had no experience in the cold north sea, only roughened sailor from the local area could do it.

“You remind me of someone I know”, Santino had seemed to finish his meal while John spread charts over the desk, measuring the distance between the islands, “She couldn’t talk, but told me more than you do.”

“You married, John? Have children? If you do, you better let me go _now_ ”, brows furrowed, face growing into an ugly scowl after a while. The carefree arrogance was gone completely, eyes growing colder, “You seem to be different than the rest. I do not want to waste a fine human, the rest were nothing. You will let me go by the evening and we can both forget about this.”

“Don’t”, John was too tired of the conversation.

But that seemed to work, the merman eased off the edge of the tank, a crooked smile snaked onto his face, “Of course.”

The rest of the evening was uneventful: John finished his calculations and Santino tried to move around in the tank, giving up in the end, lying down instead.

When John felt the familiar tug of the sails tugging the ship, he decided to go up to the deck. There was a light sea breeze, swaying the local birds. The peachy color of the sky faded into a dark lilac, noise from the city got drowned by the song of the ocean.

Wick liked the feel of the wheel in his hands, controlling the way ship goes, hearing the creaks of the masts and crunch of the sails. A wind in his hair and the occasional rains on his face made him forget about everything he had to think about. While he held the wheel, there was only a man and the ocean. Both becoming one entity.

He steered whole night, navigating using the stars. The thin veil of clouds seemed to be coming from the north, growing thicker with each hour. By the early morning the wind was strong, pushing the ship left and right.

“Lower the sails!” half droopy eyed men ran to unfasten the rope, lowering sails.

A storm was on its way, John hoped it’d lightly graze them over. Dark shadows creeped over the edges of the horizon, slowly catching up on them. When he felt heavy drops of the rain, he heard the lookout boy yell at the top of his lungs about a pirate brig.

The crew was more awake now, each grabbing a weapon of their own, looking at John for any guidance.

“Move, don’t stop!” John had to enter into the epicenter of the storm, if he wanted to avoid a clash.

That didn’t seem to stop the other vessel, gaining on them faster than they’d thought. Soon, he had to give the order of firing the round shots first. A warning not meant to harm.

That didn’t stop the black flagged ship, answering with a full on heavy shots, hitting the side. Pieces of snapped planks flew away. The storm was edging closer, air around twisting and turning.

“Ready to fire!” men yelled over the storm, squinting against the drops.

“Deploy the mortars!” the fire hit the waters instead of the target.

“Dammit, we missed it!”

“Fire!” they were getting low on mortar rounds. The enemy ship didn’t lose a beat, gaining on them steadily. Outlines of their flag clearly visible now: a black one with a red skull.

The next shot was more successful, hitting the ship’s side, but the fire was quickly put out from the rain.

“Lose all! Let’s move!” John gripped the stirring wheel harder.

“Incoming fire!” one of the masts snapped into two from the blast, creaking and falling.

No way for running now.

“We’re ready, sir!” their faces grew solemn, as they stood at their posts, ready for next orders.

“Broadside cannons, fire with all you’ve got!” John gave out, he himself standing by the swivel gun, looking at the other ship’s crew. It was a ship full of blood-lusting pirates, ready to pillage and loot for any scraps of gold they can get on their way.

The last shot all hit the other ship, putting in well deserved holes in its sides. Men cheered, eager to give more damage.

“Seems like the vulnerable spot, sir. They ain’t slowing down!” they fired at each other another few rounds, two ships dancing around each other. The enemy’s ship was getting close enough to board.

John gave out command after command, yet it all seemed futile. The other ship took as much damage as they did, yet they didn’t stop. Throwing their lives for what?

 _Santino._ His mind whispered at him. It would’ve made all sense if it was him, but it wasn’t his problem now. He needed to survive this first.

“Sire, they’re about to ram us!” was all he heard in midst of trying to steer the wheel and look through the hailstorm, before he was thrown away into the poop of the deck. Wood flew everywhere, fire spreading from the sails.

Webs of ropes with claws latched onto side of the ship, pulling it towards the other ship. John quickly came to his senses, cutting away as many as he could, before men raided the deck, slashing his crew.

Dodge, shoot, reload. A fluid movements of his body that had been repeated so many times before set into motion, leaving dead bodies after himself. His focus faltered when he saw the lean man he saw earlier at the island, making his way into the captain’s quarters.

Kicking away another pirate that had tried to tackle him, John helped out his crewman by shooting his assailant in the back and piercing the other one in their chest, making them spit out blood and go down.

“Captain!” he heard other one call out his name, when he tried to go for the mysterious man, reeling him away. It was the helmsman, holding onto his bleeding stomach, reaching out with his hands, bloody mess of his face contorting in pain, before he was shot in the head by the enemy.

Wick saw red, reaching for his second flintlock and firing it, a deadly shot in the head, instant death.

John looked around and all he saw was slaughter of his men, begging for mercy, or taking it silently. He would've to kill them all, if not for the sudden shift of the ship. It has started to sink: the hull was going down, raising steeply the deck.

Smell of burnt wood and blood was in the air, when everyone alive scattered away, trying to save their skins.

John ran to his quarters, only to see shattered windows and an empty tank.

The fire from the deck was licking its way into the quarters. Cursing, he looked out before jumping into the black water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ey


	4. Chapter 4

Storm was raging on. Waves came onto him like walls, hitting him with all their might. Boarders were retreating without anything, shooting and spearing anyone on their way; when one of the rowboats came too close, John had to dive deeper, holding his breath until he felt light-headed. The water underneath was lulling everything around, occasional lightning lit the sky, painting everything in white.

John had to keep himself afloat, when the pirates left, seemingly satisfied with their job. John gasped for air, trying to grab onto one of the passing planks the waves were difficult enough. But even that didn’t seem to help, the ocean took him way up only to drop him to the bottom.

He felt his lungs griping – convulsing in desperate movements to push out water. His body was weakening - he couldn’t see land anywhere. He saw the ship go down in flames, masts cracking from fire, hissing when it touched the water. Dead bodies floated around, roar of rain was deafening, wind howling along.

John drifted away from the battleground. Splinters from the wood stung his arms, where he clung to the piece of the wood. When he felt something touch his legs, John tried to kick, but he was already too tired to care. His vision blurred, world faded around him.

***

John felt sun burning his skin. Sound of bird squawks slowly made sense. He stood up abruptly, looking around. Blinding white sand was around him, that forced him to flinch, with woods glooming behind it. Few hermit crabs scattered from his movements, raising their claws in anger. He didn’t have anything on him, once he patted himself for any weapons.

He ran along the beach to look for any clue where he washed up. But no luck - only miles of calm water surrounded him. No signs of wrecked ship nor storm. How long had he been out?

He had lost the crew, the merman. John sat down on the scorched sand, trying to make sense out of his situation. He didn’t see the other side of the woods, there might be other people around. But he doubted it – lived-in lands have fishers near the beaches, that try to find all the isolated places they can get a catch at.

Sitting around wouldn’t do anyone good, better scout the area first. At the north he saw a slightly charred hill top, erupted volcano, recently. Strange how the trees were still intact, considering there was supposed to be fire and lava everywhere.

He felt few painful jabs near his ribs, wincing, he held onto it tight and made his way towards the woods. Chirps of birds and insects were much louder in the jungle, not shielded by the wind and leaves. John saw several small colorful birds flying by, hurrying away once they saw him.

It was quite hot around the area, making his clothes stick to his body. Pulling off his overcoat, he wrapped it around his waist, feeling slightly better at the breeze he felt from the ocean. When he poked around his torso, no bones seemed to be broken. Already something good.

On his way to the top, he found a sharp stick. Better than nothing in case there were predators around.

When he reached the bottom of the mountain, he saw water surrounding it. Steam rose from it. Cautiously, he dipped his hand into the water. It wasn’t hotter than a boiled water at the inns. Bearable. Still, he didn’t want to risk going near the hot mountain.

He walked around enough to know that he was stranded on an inhabited island. Large enough to host few large felines in seemed - several paw prints circles around the woods, probably stalking him. Readying for a strike. John was ready to take on them if he had to. While walking, he had sharpened the stick he carried with a stone shard he had found earlier near the mountain as well.

The sun seemed to be mercilessly burning from above, but he paid no heed to it, taking a leaf large enough for his head, shielding from rare rays that came in between branches and leaves. Unexpectedly, John noticed a thin trail of water on the ground, glistering from the light, among the dirt and rotten brown greens. Feeling more optimistic, he followed it, until he reached a small rock structure that was the source of it all. A moss had grown around the spring, almost hiding it for itself only.

Finally feeling his parch throat, John hurried over to the spring, greedily gulping down the water.

As much as he wanted to build a shelter around it, he didn’t want to skip a chance to see a passing ship that could pick him up. But did he really want to return to the world he was thrown away from? All he did was bringing death to people. Maybe he could die here, away from all.

Too deep in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed a thin smoke from the fire he had been trying to start for the last hour. John dropped the stick on the ground, kneeling before the little straw pile he had gathered and lightly blowing, bringing the barely alive embers back to life. Finally, the little nest started to burn earnestly, urging John to add more wood.

It was closing in onto evening, the sky darkened. John had already added enough logs to last him for the whole night, but the sleep never came. Rare rumbles of a predator could be heard in the distance, too far to worry about.

John walked towards the ocean. The sky was traitorously clear, the half-moon giving a weak pale light.

Wick suddenly felt all the anger that had built up in him, making him yell and curse. Kicking a stray rock, throwing it in the ocean didn’t alleviate his anger, only fueled. He looked around for something else to destroy, when he saw the devilishly calm merman lounging on one of the boulders, watching him like he is a performer.

“ _Ciao_ , John.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I see you’ve made yourself quite comfortable”, there was mirth on his face. “Maybe you’ll even like it.”

John was mad, but he felt conflicted whether to blame the merman or not. He was captured and was to be a pet of someone, but he wasn’t the most innocent creature of all.

“Ah, the silent fury. The look in your eyes, John”, Santino slid down into the water, coming closer to John. From corner of his eyes John saw few heads emerging from the distance, “If you want your land friends you met up at Kingston to be unharmed, you’ll not touch me.”

The Assassin brotherhood could fend for themselves, but there was no need to make their lives harder than it already is, just because John couldn’t hold in his anger.

Barely containing himself, gradually calming himself down, John gestured, like any good host, to the beach. Santino came as close to the land as possible, bottom half in the shallow water, holding himself up with his forearms.

“You’re an interesting person, John. could’ve let me rot in that glass box, ignoring my requests. Consider this-”, he circled his pointed finger around, “A gift from me for your efforts.  And remember - you live because I let you to.”

“Why bother?” John suddenly felt tired. He sat down, digging heels of his boots into the sand.

“Why ‘why bother’? I don’t know, John: curiosity, thrill?” Santino cocked his brow, keeping on the faux friendly aura, “Life underwater can be awfully dull at times.”

Disinterested, John stood up, walking away to his fire pit. He heard Santino calling him back, but he paid no heed to it, slumping down on his overcoat. If Santino spared him enough to desert him on an island, might as well let him live another night.

***

John woke up at the dawn from the rustle of leaves he scattered around himself. At first, he didn’t see anything, but when his eyes got adjusted to the grimy darkness, he saw two bright yellow eyes, looking at him from the shadows. Before he could even move, the animal leapt from its hiding with a guttural roar, openings its paws in anticipation of a kill. But John was faster: he grabbed the stick that was beside him, quickly striking the beast on its head, making it groan like a human and jumping back. Only it didn’t stop, trying again with a wide thick blood flowing from its wound, continued the fight. The fatal fight.

The jaguar aimed for John’s chest now, but he managed to stab its neck, twisting it twice, his weapon. The feline bellowed. And then, like two snakes, hugging tighter than two friends, fell at once. In the dark, the fight continued on the ground. John was menacing then, like the jaguar itself, wild and mad, he felt inflamed - groaning, hissing like the beast.

Lost in the moment, John felt like he forgot words of his own kind, letting out a shout. But his foe was getting weak: thrashing, breaths slowing. Crushing the man beneath one last time, its motionless eyes flashed one last time, before closing in eternal sleep.

Still vivid from the fight, Wick overturned the body, looking at his own wounds. Claw marks were all over his chest, shirt ruined completely. Had John not held off its neck with his bare hands, it’d have probably be dining on his remains.

He should probably skin the animal - he couldn’t let it waste away. Not on this island.

Digging into his pocket, he found the sharp stone he had found near the mountain.

Later, after leaving pelt to dry in the sun, John headed into the woods to wash the blood away. Halfway through his walk, he heard a light thud nearby. Steadying his weapon, he closed in on the source. When he saw a movement, he threw the spear. Hutia. The rodent let a small squeak before going still.

John wasn’t going to be picky. He tied the animal to his belt, going to the spring.

Washing off all the dried blood felt refreshing. Maybe he could make a water pouch from the hutia hide.

When John came back to the spot he decided was his camp, he saw a cub sleeping on the pelt.

Feeling the heavy weight of his guilt, he slowly walked towards the small bundle, careful not to scare it off.

It didn’t seem to have the honed instincts of a hunter, as it kept sleeping, twitching from time to time. Only when it felt a nudge of his hand, it opened its bleary eyes, hissing, when it saw the looming man.

John tried to shoosh it with gentle sounds, ignoring little scratches, petting its head.

After few moments it calmed down, munching on the hutia’s meat.

“Daisy”, John murmured. He didn’t know where the name came from, but it came out naturally. He smiled at the feline, when it came to his lap, falling asleep on him.

***

Several days have passed. It was better than he thought, when he had Daisy tagging along everywhere. At times it was hard to hunt with her, with her clumsily following John and meowing in disdain when in a pocket of his coat.

He decided to fish instead, weaving a net from the meaty leaves he found deep in the forest.

First time he went into the ocean, Daisy gave few tries to get into the water, but she chose to stay on the beach instead. John told her to stay, although it was unnecessary to do so.

He didn’t venture far away, keeping an eye on the small dot on the white sand, looking for anything bigger coming towards it. Luckily, there seemed to be plenty fish near the lagoon, shoaling of fish swimming by.

When he came back, he saw Daisy playing with a dead crab she probably caught, chewing on its hard shell.

John walked towards the cliffside - he found a spot that was higher few days ago, deciding it was a safer spot for him and Daisy to be in, instead of in the open. The cliffside had a look at the sea, twisted enough to hide them from worst of storms, if they ever come.

He used a fallen bark of a tree to climb to it, fished sung over his shoulder, Daisy in his pocket.

The fire he had left earlier had died down, reduced to glowing coals. Fishes were impaled, left to be cooked by the smoke and heat.

John sat in the shades, wagging a leaf in front of Daisy. The cub chased it with vigor rivaling of his mother. He still felt unease whenever remembering the night he killed the older jaguar, but it had to be done – law of nature. The pelt was buried under one of the trees. Daisy wouldn’t understand the symbolism – never will, but it felt like the right thing to do.

The day went on. John gathered everything he could: be it leaves that could be used to make a rope or dry wooden sticks. He wondered at times what Viggo thought of his disappearance, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. The life on the island was simpler: all he had to think about was his daily water supply and enough food to feed Daisy and himself. There was no need to plan his workaround inside mansions, to hide his weapons, then climbing onto rooftops to escape the guards. It was sunny here, with occasional rains. Loneliness forgotten because of Daisy.

He could almost imagine himself living here.

But he knew he couldn’t be here. Santino was still toying with him – hadn’t shown up since the last time, probably hoping to see John’s dead body after a while be it from a jaguar or lonesomeness. He’d be far mistaken if he thought so.

The sun started to set. Prints of his feet and paws were left in the sand, gradually getting washed away by the waves. John sat down, patting his lap for Daisy to hop on. Together, they watched the sunset – at least John did; the cub was more interested in birds passing over their heads.

The moment was ruined shortly after, when John saw the almost familiar flick of a tail.

The ripples came closer, the sound of almost gentle splashes nearing along with it.

Daisy perked up, ears shooting up with interest.

When Santino’s torso came out of the water, she hissed, backing away to John’s back.

“A pet. Charming”, Santino looked over Daisy, eyes filled with mild surprise.

John tried to pat down the fur that stood up, circling her back with soothing circles.

“I see my guest is well and not dead”, the merman looked over John’s scars on his chest. He breathed in as if to ask something, but stopped himself, making the silence stretch longer.

John couldn’t take it any longer, cutting off with a question.

“What do you want?” he knew he wasn’t left alive for a simple mercy from Santino. He knew men like him never moved a muscle for the good will of the heart. Did it really matter? If it meant that he could get out of here with a mission, he’d do it.

“You know I saved your life from that wreck, John”, Santino started, “And a friend of mine tells me that you’re the infamous lapdog of Count Viggo. Is that true? No need to lie here.”

“Yes.”

“Excellent, we can come to an agreement then.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You killed my crew, left me on this island. And you want an ‘agreement’?” It was refreshing to talk to someone, when all of his time was spent having one-sided conversations with Daisy, even If it was the insufferably arrogant merman.

“But you’re alive. Had you not wanted this to continue, you’d have hanged yourself, rather than crafting yourself that ladder”, Santino nodded towards the cliff side. “Thought I wouldn’t know about anything you’ve been doing here for these past few days? I have eyes and ears everywhere, John.”

“What do you want?” He wasn’t yet tired of the island, but he _was_ of this talk. Santino will have to offer him a lot to drag him out of here.

“Why, isn’t it obvious, John? I’d bring you a ship with a crew, we could part our ways, but only if you give me a promise for one job. I think it’d be a worth the trouble if the legends about you are half as impressive as people make it seem to be.”

“What, still don’t know whom to kill?”

“My men are capable enough to take care of such-“, Santino waved his hand around, face scrunched up trying to remember the word, “-trivial problems. Can’t afford to use someone like you on a meagerly mundane, pity-job such as assassinating, say, a politician.”

“How do you know I’ll keep the promise?”

“Your friend, Winston, was it? Maybe it’s about time you have a talk with him. That man knows much more than he acts on about. He’ll make sure you’ll fulfill your end of the bargain.”

That was an interesting turn of events. Had the Grand Master known about Santino? Why hasn’t John been told about this? Winston knew he was about to catch mermaids.

“Don’t fret over it, he had made a promise to my family. Nothing personal, John”.

While they talked back and forth John hadn’t noticed their banter had led them to the evening. Santino didn’t seem to notice it either, only looking away when one of his men called him from behind.

“It’s a pity we don’t see eye to an eye, John. Your talents being wasted away at the barbarian lands, when you could be working for me. I’d give you all the freedom you’d need. But our time is up, I’ll come by.”

***

Days have passed and there was no sign of Santino. John almost felt like he missed the man, however he knew it was for his own good that the man didn’t appear.

Daisy was growing by days, getting stronger and stronger. Only few weeks ago she clumsily trailed after his legs, now she started to crouch and hunt for smaller animals, bringing her catch with puffed out chest. Be it a small mouse or a lizard John gratefully took it from her, chopping it up for her later that day.

When there was nothing else to do, he started his Navy training, switching it with the Russian, then Assassin guild one.

It kept his mind from wandering elsewhere, keeping it at the present. He just needed to do _something._

During one of his makeshift branch-sword fencing, he heard the already distinguishable splash of silvery fins. John looked over at the ocean to see silvery flicks, sun glistening off of the scales.

One wouldn’t notice at first glance, but there were few flecks of green in his tail – too pale to notice straight away, but they were there, splattered across his lower tail. It was interesting how he was the only one with the pale tail, others around him had much brighter vivid colors of red, blue and so on.

Breaking the cycle, John spoke first, “Only you have white tail”, he decided to not call it ‘silvery’ as his brain supplied him with, no need to inflate the ego of the other man, it was already enough to last him for few lifetimes.

“White? No, John, this is not _white._ Surely you can see it it’s not simply white. Do you even realize you could offend one of our people with that simple statement? Color of a tail is a symbol of status and prestige. Silver is the royal bloodline”, Santino looked weary, usual arrogance slightly dampened. Slightly.

“But it’s not fully so”, John nodded towards the flecks of color on his tail.

Santino’s previously cheery mood soured, smile dropping off for a moment, coming back on with sharp edges.

“So you’ve noticed. Yes, I’m not a pureblood. My father, the King, couldn’t keep himself away from one of the servants, obviously forcing himself upon her, or maybe she was eager, who knows. Her life ended there­ shortly after my birth”, there was a flippant note in his voice as if he was used to explaining himself to almost-strangers about his birthright.

“So you’re a prince of sorts?” John slowly grasped the idea of their world from Santino’s stories from before.

“Of sorts”, there was a distant look in his eyes­. He sighed, shoulders slumping as much as it could while he was leaning on his elbows, “Feels like I’ll forever be one.”

John didn’t know what to say about such sudden openness from the other man, but he continued his prodding. He had nothing else to do after all.

“Why?”

“You know you can speak with more than one worded sentences, right, John?” and the mild annoyance was back, if only lessened, “My _sister_ has more chances of becoming the ruler of the ocean rather than me. She acts as if that is forced upon her, clearly trying to ward off my jealousy. But I can already see the nobles cowering from her look only – obviously she has threatened them enough to get their vote if the king dies.”

John had a vague feeling that he might play a vital role in the underwater royal court, but he let the feeling slide, continuing to listen to the prince’s talk.

“Let me guess: you want the throne”, John sat down near the water, letting his feet rest in the warm sloshing ocean.

“I don’t”, came an automatic response, Santino visibly shook it off, “I do. I don’t know. I really don’t. The traditions dictate for the king to have only one child, but the cycle was broken by me – the shame of the royal bloodline – a bastard. At times I felt like it was the right thing to do: to be the strongest sibling to take the throne. I know I won’t be welcome, nobles already barely tolerate me at the court, how will they follow me, when most are led by a leash by _Gianna_.”

So Santino could not yet decide his own fate, keeping John as a safeguard, in case something happens. John had no idea how he’d assassinate someone underwater, guess he’ll mange it somehow. Maybe he should take on Santino’s offer of getting out of the island. He had spent enough time here as it is.

While he pondered, Daisy closed in towards the merman, cautiously looking at his tail. Santino smiled at the animal, gently calling her to himself.

“You trained her well. Comes to me like any curious dolphin”, Daisy’s back curved upwards under the man’s hand, starting to loudly purr, “Sorry. Your world would be equivalent of… A cat? Dog?”

“Why are you letting me decide whether to help you or not?” John asked after few moments of watching Santino petting his pet.

It was illogical of Santino to do so. He could force, put him in life-death choice. Yet none of it happened. John had been left alone to his devices on an island – to do as he pleases. Chained to the place with water, but could’ve been worse. He knows that well. He worked for Tarasovs.

“Why not? A man works better had he chosen to do so, not forced upon. Don’t you agree?”

“Suppose so”, making the final decision, John stood up, “I’ll make the deal.”

“How delightful”, the merman smiled wider, “I do have a small additional favor to ask from you, though.”

“Why? Shouldn’t my deal be done if I help you with whatever you ask me now?”

“What you promise me is a blood oath – a life for a life. What I ask you of now, is a small request.”

“Fine, I’m listening”, Santino wiggled his fingers in front of Daisy, goading her to catch them, glancing up to John to continue.

“I’ll come to surface with you. You’ll have to have me as your companion. I know your alliance to the Russian counts, and I will be no nuisance, I assure you of that”, Santino quickly added before John could protest, “So, do we have a deal?”

“And what will I get out of it?”

“A chance to _not_ fulfill the oath, of course. Had you not figured? If the world of land is worth to be lived in, why would I want a crown in a kingdom where people would rather see me dead than rule them?”

Seemed reasonable enough.

“Fine. Deal.”


	7. Chapter 7

Familiar feel of a pleasant breeze brushing against his face was a welcome one. The sun was burning down on the crewmen reddened backs, adorned with sweat and grime. Sailors worked like one unit, occasionally singing to lift their mood, in cadence of the swinging ship.

None of them were concerned about John’s presence, which suited the man just fine. He walked around the deck, circling around, checking the knots. At times he remembered the old crew, but their final screams were drowned out by the people that surrounded him now, at the present.

He was given a simple set of clothes, no weapons. Perhaps Santino still didn’t trust him enough, could he blame him? John was an assassin, he shouldn’t be even trusted with a rope.

After his agreement, Santino departed shortly after with the horse of his followers. It didn’t seem like he wasn’t liked by them at least, if his tales about his alienage are true enough. Maybe they wanted to overturn?

The night gradually came over. John sat by on one of the barrels, gently scratching Daisy’s ears. She was awfully adaptive – after few hesitant steps on the planks and suspicious hisses at the crew, she made herself comfortable, tagging behind John. Her ever present curiosity was driving her to sniff and nip on everything, but the familiarity of the man was more important to her, so she didn’t stray away, always keeping John within her eyesight.

***

Port Royal welcomed John yet again with her ever-trying dirty decks filled with filth. Daisy sneezed, knitting her brows as much as it’d allow her furry face at the aroma that stained the air.

Just when he put his foot on solid land, his duties reminded him of themselves immediately in a form of a fellow assassin stepping out of the shadow, passing him a sealed note with a nod.

The red wax was sealed with Winston’s distinctive stamp of a simple letter ‘C’. Urgent it is then.

_John,_

_I’ve learned of your survival from the crash. A miracle indeed. However duties of an assassin aren’t stopped by thee._

_Come by the Wicked Moon by midnight,_

_W._

Until midnight there was enough time for him to head to the nearest bureau and get his robes and weapons back. Clicking his tongue for Daisy to follow, he headed there.

The bureau was same as ever, the leader of the small bureau looking up briefly for a customer. However, when he recognized one of his own, quickly called the apprentice to look over the shop, leading John to the hidden door.

“Why, John, we thought you were dead”, his Spanish accent came thickly, droplets of sweat rolling down his sunburnt skin, “Good to have you back. Templars been more bold lately, hearing of your demise.”

“An element of surprise for the next job then”, John conjured up a smile.

“And a pet! Look at this beauty!” the keeper tried to call Daisy with his meaty fingers, but she only climbed up the shelves, leaving her tail to wag in front of him, “Ah, a tease. But that’s nothing, bet you’ve missed all your gear, all the bruises on your forearms are gone! How long has it been?”

The owner kept going on, giving hearty laughs in-between, coughing when the wheezes got bad. The man must’ve been awfully bored so, judging how he entertains himself.

Once he had his gear on, he felt slightly better at the familiar press of the hidden blade under his forearm along with the pockets filled with poison, smoke bombs and darts. Sharpening his dagger one more time, he looked out the window to see the moon shining on the rowdy city. If not the drunken singing it’d almost be as peaceful as on the island.

Time to go out.

It wasn’t uncommon for the citizens of the Port Royal to have exotic pets such as the howler monkeys, parrots, even hutia, but for him to walk around the town with a leopard in tow drew too much attention, several traders asking for a price when he passed by their stores. John ignored them, choosing more darker alleys instead, and finally, choosing rooftops and crowns of trees, which suited Daisy just fine.

The Wicked Moon was a quiet tavern at the outskirts of the town, near the lagoon and trees. Kingston could be seen from here, without all the smoke from the taverns – bleak shaking lights of torches and lamps, festivities there were utmost lavish, depravities were shown with no bounds, coin and wine pouring out the streets alongside wenches. John didn’t care much about all of it, his position simply didn’t allow him. Coins he had gathered so far were hidden in one of the caves, like so many of his fellow brethren and sisters did to theirs.

The innkeeper behind the counter took in John’s appearance, nodding towards the backroom, eyeing Daisy with interest, as she obediently trailed after the man.

“Ah, John, my boy, right on time”, Winston straightened up from the cauldron he was leaning against, where a blue glowing fluid boiled, occasional bubbles popping on top of it.

“Grand Master?” John questioned. It was obvious as day that Winston was in a midst of a witchcraft.

Although the Inquisition was all flourishing at the Spanish and Portuguese colonies, at the lands such as Kingston and Tortuga it wasn’t _not_ welcomed: to charm one’s ship or curse other was a common practice among the residents of the Caribbean and beyond. But, generally, in a polite society, it was frowned upon. So, John was perplexed to see his Master standing there, brewing a _potion._

“I should’ve told you earlier. But you surely must’ve questioned before _how_ those Templars don’t recognize our emblems on our belts when we are out, hunting them. Surely, you must’ve. But that doesn’t matter now. What matters now is whether I know if it’ll change your loyalties towards the brotherhood”, Winston tilted his head down, assessing him like a father would, with a calm, waiting gaze.

“No”, John simply said. _Nothing is true. Everything is permitted._ Witchcraft was used for the better of the brotherhood, John shouldn’t question his Grand Master.

“Good. Then we can begin our ritual. Open the hatch there, will you?” a command in a form of a gentle request. Winston took out a locket from his sleeve, submerging it into the boiling cauldron, saying out words in a language John had never heard before. He could swear the bubbling mess became brighter with each moment.

John looked at the process, transfixed, while opening the trapdoor, only looking down when a wet hand latched onto his hand. John immediately sheathed his hidden blade, the end coming inches from the familiar set of light eyes.

“Take that away from me, you _idiota,_ and help me up”, he spat, other hand on the floor, pulling himself up. Water splattered everywhere, especially on John’s clothes.

“Winston, _mio amico_. Time and dry lands hadn’t been kind to you I see”, Santino smiled up at the old man, once perched on one of the free seats, “Shall we begin?”

“Alright, someone explain me all of this”, John tiredly looked over at his unlikely company, losing his patience. Daisy already hopped on the table in front of the Santino, glad to see a familiar face.

“What is there to explain? Winston is a rather old magus, and by old I really _do_ mean old”, the merman waved his hand at Winston, expecting him to elaborate, only to receive a resentful scowl. When no answer came, with a heavy sigh, he continued, “He probably lived more lifetimes than people in this town. And now, John, we’re doing a ritual to bind us to a blood oath – as you’ve agreed upon, sounds rather romantic, but I assure you it is not. And also turn me into a human.”

A casual and artless explanation. But the blood oath part had left him confused. Winston, being the clever man he is, used his momentary distraction to grab his hand, prickling his thumb on the amulet. When John tugged his arm away, half-heartedly glaring at the magi, the other man humbly shrugged.

“I have no choice in this either, John”, was all he got, “If I were you, I’d go lie down on one of the benches. Blood oaths are quite dizzying.”

And truly, John started to feel the edges of his vision blurring, darkening with each moment. Before he knew it, he was out cold.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ey im feeling great ill update this weekend as well

“John”, a floaty feeling of airiness surrounded him, the voice calling him from a distant echo.

“John!”

A sharp jab against his ribs. Alright, he felt that. Not dead then.

Groaning at everything around him, John tried to rise, turning to his side. The world was still a bleary mess when he tried to open his eyes. He could feel Daisy’s face nudging against his; a rumble of purr near his ear, trying to wake him up.

“Good, you’re not dead. While you’ve been lying around, Winston left. Told me to give you this”, Santino shoved damp papers against John’s unmoving hand.

The world was coming together – slowly, but surely. He could feel his limbs and his surroundings more acutely with each passing second.

 They were still in the backroom of the Wicked Moon humid air pressing him from everywhere. First time in a while he had missed the crisp cold Russian winter.

Tearing off the stamp, when he felt slightly better, John uncurled the scroll, skimming through the lines.

_John,_

_Whatever you owed this man is a blood oath now. I hope you’ve made a wise decision. You cannot run from it, you cannot kill Santino himself, as the curse of the blood would bring much worse than you’ll ever imagine. I’d have helped you, but you gave a promise and my hands are tied in matters such as these._

_It’ll be a mission for you as well, my brethren. You will let Santino accompany you at the surface world. It’d be most favorable for us and the underwater world if he stays here. Do try to convince him so. By any means necessary._

_I must depart from Port Royal, as it had become quite hectic lately. I will let you know about my whereabouts. In time._

_W._

Santino must’ve not told Winston that John was already going to be dragging him along to his missions one way or another, judging from the letter. Burning the paper over the lonely candle in the room, John looked over at the other man.

He was oddly quiet, looking down at his legs. It was indeed strange to see the once merman now standing, albeit unsteadily, but still standing on the floor on his two legs. He already had a pair of pants on, warily looking over at the boots.

“Go on, put them on. Aren’t your lackeys gonna be humans as well?” John picked up his fallen dagger, tucking it snugly against his inner pocket. He traced the insignia of the brotherhood, trying to feel _anything_ from it. There was nothing, only cold metal greeted him. Perhaps the Inquisition’s propagandas were lies after all. He didn’t burn or die from touching the enchanted trinket after all these years.

“They didn’t have the oath of the Magus”, Santino quickly shut his mouth after it, throwing a hesitant glance at him, “You must not speak of this to anyone.”

John only graced him with a nod, before he walked out of the tavern. He heard shuffles and thumps of Santino trying to put on shoes and hurrying after him. At least he knew how to keep up with a fast pace.

He needed to report back to the Count, even if it was a failure at least he knew merfolk existed. He could venture on a second expedition.

“I know I said I won’t be a burden, but I do want to know where are we hurrying like this?” Santino carefully walked around one of trees, looking around with a spark of curiosity in his eyes at the rundown huts.

“You’ve studied me enough, you should know: back to Russia”, he could not return there, as they probably think of him dead, but he’d rather not. The only steady flow of money came from the Tarasovs – he  took it without questioning, no need to make his life harder than it is by going rogue on them now.

“Are you going to tell them I am what you’ve been sent to capture?”

“You’re not one now”, if he ran back, claiming the man beside him was a merman, they’d throw him in a dungeon, forgetting he ever existed, writing him off as a madman.

“You could tell them we exist. Although they’d have hard time believing you”, Santino snorted without a malice, “I wouldn’t really care if you really do, though. My people need to have a place in this world and for that to happen, others need to know we exist in the first place.”

Then the fire in his voice ignited again, passionate and power-hungry. Perhaps that part of him hated his sister, driving the Royal court mad.

“The traditionalists are afraid of the new world that is unfolding for these past decades. Before they were considered gods by the humans, and now – they’re hunted like animals. People conquering the seas, going back and forth between the lands. They’re scared of changes”, there was long doused bitterness in his voice, seeping through his words, “Mere mention of one scatters them like a flock of fishes.”

John only hummed in return. It was somehow comforting to be in a company of another person for such a long time – a constant awareness of someone beside him. Used to being alone, being with Daisy and Santino was different.

‘They could be a liability some time in the future’, was all his mind kept chanting, but John drowned them out, focusing on Santino’s voice instead.

They’ve trekked to the docking port. It was early in the morning: sailors that generously celebrated their return the previous night passed out in various places, covered in who knows what.

“I have not realized how the waters smelled so acrid before”, Santino covered his nose with his sleeve, disgust clearly written all over his face. It wasn’t even that bad, John seen worse.

“Only the ports”, they needed to get to Kingston and find a better vessel to sail to the North. Maybe even hop from one ship to another if there need to be.

Messy rows of boats were bobbing by the deck, all seemed to be ready to be taken. Brigs and frigates were docked a leeway away from the port, where the crewmen were lazily crawling out for their duties, calling out each other alongside seagulls.

John jumped down to one of the boats, waiting until it balanced out, before he called Daisy by his side.

Santino hesitated, looking with distrust at the wobbling.

“Are you sure it can carry us all? It seems to be barely holding two of you”, he nudged the nose of the ship with a tip of his boot, making it slightly more unsteady.

“Afraid, Santino?”

Words worked like charm, setting a stubborn line across the younger man’s features.

“Of course not”.

Rowing was mostly done by John, as Santino’s hands looked like they’ve never done any hard job in his life before. Which was probable, being a royalty and all.

Kingston was as dirty and dusty as John had left it few weeks ago. Maybe it had gone worse.

“This reminds me of the lower reef cities. Just as dirty and crowded. And in water, dirt is much worse, getting into gills and sticking to skin”, Santino gave an offhanded comment, while strolling after John. A carefully masked curiosity was all over his face, he tried to blend in, but still was sticking out like a sore thumb. Even Daisy did better than him: noticing the unwanted attention, gave up trudging after them, going up instead.

“So you know of the Brotherhood”, they were heading towards the inns. John wasn’t immortal after all, he needed rest once in awhile.

“You could say that. Yes. But I do not care about your Templar war, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I understand it has been going on for ages, yes?”

“Yes”, Santino didn’t know and care about either of them, so there won’t be any trouble, hopefully.

“Why pick your side? From what I heard so far, Templars don’t seem so bad - bringing order and all.”

Why indeed. John could’ve easily been on Templars side as much as he could’ve been on the Assassin’s. It just happened to be that one of them found John first, when he was half choking on his own blood in back alley, and nursed him back to life. For that, John was repaying them only.

With years the order has grown onto him and his involvement was bigger than he’d have ever imagined the day he had joined. The Brotherhood gave him options and sense of goal in his life, guiding him in his dark times. With Tarasovs he mindlessly obeyed, whereas here, he could choose what was good or not. The feeling was liberating, and Viggo didn’t need to know about his affiliations as long as he had the job done.

“Had my reasons.”

They were at the inn already. It had a ‘C’ engraved on top of the ancient looking door, its wood blackened with age. The inside was quite lavish by Kingston’s standards: they even had a chandelier hanging high from the ceiling with weak candle lights flickering. However, there were no windows, the whole building a small fortress amassed from stones and gravel.

“I must say Winston had gotten a better taste”, Santino looked at the painting of a naked lady holding a plate of fruits, framed in a gold covered frame, patterns curling, gathering dust.

They closed in to the innkeeper, buried underneath papers and bags of gold, only shining balding scalp visible. Quite cocky, showing off his wealth while being surrounded by pirates, but no one would dare to attack anyone here. Even if the person really did deserve it.

John patiently waited to be acknowledged, but after few moments, Santino seemed to lose patience, clearing his voice, before throwing three golds towards the wrinkly hands of the hotelier.

The man looked at the coins, latching onto it, checking with biting them and turning over.

“Welcome to Continentale, guests!” he looked up, smiling a toothless smile, one eye comically enlarged from the monocle lens, “What would you require, sires?”

“Two of your finest rooms. Bath drawn, dinner for two and a change of clothes”, the former merman drawled with his nose high, his princely posturing coming back.

“We quite pride ourselves with our cuisine, what would it be for your dinner then?”

When Santino hesitated, John just ordered them both a bottle of wine and a roast. It was to be expected, where underwater folks would cook their meal? John had to ask that.

They were guided towards their rooms by the maids. One with Santino got more handsy, giggling and blushing at his slightest attention, with which he was generous with. The other one tried to do the same with John, but stopped doing so, when John hadn’t reacted in any way to her advancements.

“Would you like to be bathed, sire?” the woman inquired, once she had filled the bathtub with steaming hot water.

“No, that will be all.”

“Sir, the other guest you came with wanted to dine with you. He asked for your company after your bath.”

John nodded, dismissing her.

There was a flowery scent in the water, which was more than welcome for his weary bones. He could’ve gone few more days without rest, had he been ten years younger. He wasn’t now, so he had to plan his routes and tactics more smartly so, unlike in his younger days, where he lunged head-first, his body be damned.

Same was for his frequent inn visits and lesser contracts. It was hard as it is to keep up with his exceeding reputation of a Reaper, when his body ached for a rest.

Once he was done, he quickly dressed into more comfortable linen shirt and pants the maid thoughtfully put on a chair beside the tub.

At Santino’s door, he knocked. Receiving no answer, he tried the knob, only to find it open. Old instincts kicking in, he entered the room with dagger ready, expecting the worst.

However, there was no danger. It was the opposite, Santino was still in a tub, face flushed with one of the manservants “helping” him wash, with his arms around the merman and one hand under the water, somewhere between his legs. Fire from the fireplace cast warm hued lights across his features, underlining expanse of his rapidly rising and falling of his chest.

John hadn’t made a noise and froze where he was. It was indeed quite a view.

Santino noticed him only because he was facing the door, unlike the servant, who was busy. His lids grew heavy once he noticed John, letting out a long held breath, giving a downright sleazy grin while doing so. The ‘helper’ kept going, his hand speeding up, drawing out groans and small moans from Santino.

John was transfixed on the whole display, only coming back to his sense once Santino tensed up, still looking right into his eyes while doing so.

“Thank you, Michael, you may leave. I had my guest waiting longer than any polite host would do so”, at the mention of another party, the young valet looked up at John with panic, face still red from earlier. Muttering out hurried apologies he fled the room as fast as possible.

“Didn’t think you’d stop there and watch”, Santino rose from the tub in all his naked glory, without a drop of shame, “Although I _am_ a sight to behold.”

“You seemed to enjoy yourself”, John but all awkwardly said, looking at the table instead while the other man dressed himself.

“How very generous of you to wait out then. Although the boy knew hardly what he was doing”, came a mocking reply. Before an uneasy silence could settle between them, a knock came from the door.

Earlier maid peeked in, holding a tray of roasted pork with a bottle of wine. Everything came second once the smell of food hit John’s senses.

“Your dinner, sires”, she put everything on the table, excusing herself out when she did so.

“I have never had human food before, but I must say, it smells quite good”, Santino remarked, before they settled in, digging in for their food.

“You wanted to talk?” John remembered why he had come here in the first place after few bites of the smoky meat and fruits cleared up smoke of hunger.

“Ah, yes. I just simply wanted to talk with you – getting to know you, is all. Since we’re venturing to the other side of the world together, might as well not make it harder. Don’t you agree?”

‘Getting to know’ sounded casual. Friendly. Too few had asked John such things, and Santino seemed to want to change everything that had been settled before him.

“Seems reasonable”, John agreed, doubts that lingered before fading away.

“Excellent. More of a reason to open this bottle and drink for our camaraderie”, the bottle was opened, clinking against the cheap glass the inn provided with, “For our future journey.”


End file.
